


On Birthdays and Celebrations

by warsfeil



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-26
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:06:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2855177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furihata had learned, over time, that one of his most valuable points was that he was both hardworking and adaptable.</p>
<p>This is a good thing, when you're Akashi Seijuurou's boyfriend/secretary, and it's Akashi's birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Birthdays and Celebrations

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a gift for shipthepuppy for AkaFuri secret santa, and thus concludes my drowning in this ship. Bury me in Akashi, there's no hope for me.

Furihata had learned, over time, that one of his most valuable points was that he was both hardworking and adaptable. Even if he was rarely the smartest or most talented candidate, he still managed to shine, as someone who rarely gave up, but wasn’t afraid to approach things from a different angle. Or several angles. Multiple times.

His current dilemma was one that might not have occurred at all if he had been anyone else. If he had been anyone else, then as Akashi Seijuurou’s secretary, he definitely would not have managed to survive, much less thrive in the environment. Keeping Akashi’s daily life sorted was a herculean task, and Furihata managed it admirably. If he had been anyone else, then he probably wouldn’t have wound up as Akashi Seijuurou’s secretary to begin with, much less lasted two weeks. But Furihata was who he was— hardworking, adaptable, and somehow, a friend from high school— which meant that despite all odds, Furihata had wound up not only at Akashi’s desk, but also in his bed.

It was useful. Sort of. Furihata knew Akashi’s schedule better than Akashi did, most days, so it was easy to make sure he had enough sleep. It was easy to make sure that Akashi didn’t turn the alarm off and roll over, as he was prone to, and it was easy to make sure that Akashi didn’t forget meals, or set it aside and let the cats have it while working on something.

It was also easier to figure out how to make Akashi go home when it was ten at night on his own birthday. Well — not easier, exactly. Furihata had already tried all the easy routes: politely informing Akashi that the last employee had gone home. At seven. Three hours ago. It hadn’t done any good. Furihata had tried to stop bringing Akashi tea, since “there would be more at dinner”. Akashi had simply switched to a canned energy drink from the vending machine, which Furihata found considerably more horrifying. Furihata had tried asking, in desperation, at nine, when they’d missed the dinner reservation he had been trying to keep secret (but suspected Akashi knew about).

In the end, Akashi had looked apologetic; his voice had been kind and tired, but he had another conference call to do with an overseas company, but if Furihata needed to go home—

Of course Furihata had absolutely no intention of going home without Akashi. For one, Akashi wouldn’t go home on his own, Furihata was certain. For two, Furihata had grown used to sleeping next to Akashi, after two years of dating, and he didn’t think he wanted to give up on celebrating Akashi’s birthday so easily.

Which was what led him to getting creative. He listened, waiting as Akashi dialed into the line for the conference call. It was in another language, but Furihata’s German was absolutely terrible, so he couldn’t figure out much besides the initial greetings. That was fine.

He moved into the room, doing his best impression of Kuroko’s ability to ghost around without being noticed. It didn’t work, exactly, not with the way Akashi glanced at him, but Akashi’s attention was focused on the screen in front of him. Was that… were they still using powerpoint to coordinate presentations?

Furihata had brought in a water bottle, and he “accidentally” dropped it, letting it roll under the desk. Akashi frowned, rolling backwards in his chair and starting to reach down, the movement doing nothing to stop the (probably) flawless German from coming out of his mouth. Furihata raised his hands to shoo Akashi out of the way, dropping down on his knees. To retrieve the water bottle. Definitely. That was probably— hopefully— what Akashi thought.

He grabbed the water bottle and waited a few seconds for Akashi to stop talking. Furihata was a little nervous. What he was about to attempt was more than a little daring, and certainly took more courage than he thought he had, but he’d learned to expand his horizons, after two years of close proximity to Akashi. He bit his lip, then took the plunge, letting the water bottle drop silent to the floor and sliding his hands up Akashi’s legs.

Akashi jumped, and the reaction satisfied a part of Furihata that he was a little embarrassed to admit he had. Well, had been embarrassed by, maybe, but: two years of dating Akashi. Two years of hickeys and that time on Furihata’s desk and that time where Akashi had decided they should try bondage and, honestly, Furihata tried pretty hard not to think about it all, because it was pretty distracting (which was embarrassing in of itself, really).

"Kouki," Akashi mouthed, more than said, but even if he didn’t give the word enough sound to be heard by the phone, Furihata could still hear the warning in his voice.

Furihata ignored it, carefully undoing Akashi’s belt buckle. He used his fingers to silence the metal, making sure that nothing but the quiet sounds of cloth rustling could be heard in the room. That wouldn’t be picked up by the receiver. The zipper was harder, and so it went slower— millimeter by millimeter, Furihata unzipped it, before venturing a glance up at Akashi.

Akashi’s eyes were absolutely on fire, and it went straight to Furihata’s groin. Akashi very deliberately raised his hands and laid them onto his desk, slowly looking back to his computer screen. He continued the conversation like nothing was wrong: his German was as fluent as ever, his tone matching that of his associates, and Furihata wanted to see if he could manage to ruin that. Akashi always took such a delight in ruining Furihata, after all, it felt appropriate to have revenge for making them miss all of Akashi’s birthday plans. Besides — it was probably a pretty good present.

It didn’t take long at all for a few strokes to get Akashi’s cock hard. His palms were still flat on the desk, his eyes riveted to the presentation, but his breathing had sped up, and Furihata knew it was affecting him. It was a little complicated to get Akashi’s cock out from underneath his underwear, but Furihata managed it with skill he didn’t honestly think he had. The threat of ruining whatever business transaction was going on over his head was pretty good motivation.

Furihata took Akashi’s cock into his mouth and tried not to let the way Akashi’s voice halted get to him. Akashi covered for it: it became a thoughtful pause, and not evidence that his boyfriend was giving him a blowjob under the desk. Furihata had a reasonable amount of experience in giving Akashi blowjobs, these days, and he took care to do everything he knew would drive Akashi insane.

It seemed to work. When Furihata blew on the tip of Akashi’s cock, Akashi’s throat tightened; when Furihata hollowed out his cheeks, Akashi’s breath hitched, and when Furihata let Akashi’s cock slide dangerously deep into his throat, Akashi’s hands balled into fists and he closed his eyes to regain control of himself.

Then Furihata heard the words “video conference”, and while his German wasn’t very good, his English was better, and the words were close enough that he had just enough time to start to pull back when Akashi reacted. He grabbed Furihata’s head, tangled a hand into his hair and slid his chair closer to the desk all at once— close enough to obscure Furihata from view if the monitor webcam was tilted just so, and just close enough to be slightly uncomfortable for Furihata.

Furihata let out a quiet noise, half protest and half the fact that the way Akashi was tugging on his hair was completely unfair (this was supposed to be revenge for Akashi making them miss out on all of Furihata’s careful planning, after all), and then immediately hoped it wasn’t anything that was broadcast. He waited a few tense seconds, but the man talking loudly didn’t seem to realize anything was unusual.

From where he was under the desk, with his head shoved into Akashi’s lap, Furihata couldn’t see the screen. Could barely see Akashi’s face, really; he had to crane his neck awkwardly to make eye contact, which Akashi only allowed for a few seconds before he looked back ahead of him. Akashi’s cheeks were slightly flushed, but not enough to betray the fact that just out of sight was someone on their hands and knees.

Really, if Furihata had been anyone else, when asked to be Akashi Seijuurou’s secretary, he would have run screaming if he’d known this would be the end result. Instead, he just let one of his hands reach down to cautiously undo his own belt. The hand in his hair tightened abruptly, and Furihata froze. He knew exactly what that meant, but this was supposed to be about him being upset with Akashi… though, it was also a means to get Akashi home, and even if Furihata had to suffer a little for it, he could make some sacrifices.

They’d be home before midnight, which meant it would still be Akashi’s birthday. Furihata wouldn’t complain too much, even if his cock was throbbing in his pants and he really, really didn’t want to try and ignore it. The hand in his hair had a tight grip, though, and Furihata didn’t try to disobey an order from someone who, technically, paid his rent in more ways than one.

Akashi was talking again, and Furihata used his hands to trace down Akashi’s thighs. He could use his nails as much as he liked, when Akashi still had his pants on; there wouldn’t be any marks. He had to be careful to be quiet, but it was worth it, for the way Akashi sank a half inch down into the chair, giving Furihata fuller access to everything Furihata wanted access to.

Furihata ignored the things that Akashi was saying, when he spoke, and instead focused on the sound of his voice. He’d always liked Akashi’s voice, but he liked it even more, now, when Akashi was trying so hard to keep it calm and level and even so, Furihata could hear the way Akashi was taking extra breaths. He couldn’t see Akashi, but he didn’t need to, not when he could feel the way Akashi’s thighs twitched under his hands, not when he could taste Akashi thick on his tongue and he hadn’t even come yet.

Closing his eyes, Furihata tried to ignore the way it was making him feel. Everytime Akashi’s hips involuntarily jerked, his cock hit the back of Furihata’s throat, and Furihata had to relax around him, even though it made Furihata want to tense up. Akashi’s fingers rethreaded their way through Furihata’s hair, nails scratching across his scalp as they adjusted their grip, and without warning he shoved Furihata down hard enough that Furihata thought he might choke and give them away.

Akashi let him up just soon enough, holding him down just long enough for Furihata’s throat to spasm. Furihata drew back slightly, and Akashi coughed when he did, covering the noise. The conversation halted, and for a second, Furihata thought that they had been caught, that someone had realized what was happening— and then Akashi was pushing him back down again, less forceful, but still insistent.

Furihata gave in easily. He felt like he always did, with Akashi, but that was part of being adaptable, wasn’t it? At least, it was, when dealing with Akashi Seijuurou. Akashi’s hips were moving, just enough to make it seem like he was rocking comfortably in his chair, and Furihata wanted nothing more than to reach down and touch himself— his pants were going to be a mess, how was he going to get home, how could he face Akashi’s driver, would his coat cover everything— and then suddenly Akashi was moving entirely: his chair was moving back and he was looking at Furihata. Furihata’s heart stopped for a moment before he realized that he didn’t hear any voices, and he started to glance back at the monitor before the hand in his hair tugged hard.

"Don’t you dare," Akashi said. "Don’t you dare stop now."

The call must have ended— early, probably, though Furihata was sure that Akashi had managed to excuse himself politely— and Furihata let himself go. He lurched up, wrapped his hands around the base of Akashi’s cock and pumped, let his tongue carefully slide around the slit of Akashi’s cock and then Furihata moaned at the taste of it.

That was what undid Akashi, in the end, and he came thick down Furihata’s throat and Furihata whined with the desire to come himself. Then Akashi was slipping, slipping out of his chair and pressing Furihata down onto the floor underneath Akashi’s desk, and when Furihata’s belt clinked onto the wood and Akashi’s hand wrapped around him it was all he could do to keep from screaming. Furihata didn’t last long— a few strokes and he was wrapping his arms around Akashi, burying his face in his should and muffling his yell there. He was glad the office was empty, this late at night; someone would definitely have heard them.

They were both breathing hard, even a few minutes later, laying in a pile underneath Akashi’s desk.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Akashi asked, and his voice was equal parts annoyed, sated, and curious.

"I needed to get your attention," Furihata said, quietly, and now that he had to explain it, it really was embarrassing. "So that you wouldn’t miss your birthday."

"I see," Akashi murmured, thumb tracing small circles around Furihata’s hips. "If I agree to stop working so we can celebrate, does that mean that I can celebrate however I want?"

"We already missed dinner reservations," Furihata said, and his voice was only mildly reproachful.

Akashi smiled, and it was all teeth and made Furihata’s body decide that yeah, it could go for round two already. “I’m sure we can find a substitute.”

"Seijuurou—" Furihata started, but then Akashi was kissing him and Furihata couldn’t voice a complaint even if he really had wanted to. The important thing was: Akashi was definitely going to go home now, and it wasn’t even eleven yet, which meant that they still had plenty of time to celebrate Akashi’s birthday.

Which they did. Well into the following day, actually, which Furihata almost regretted when he overslept his alarm the following morning.

Almost.


End file.
